


Glimpse of Relief

by RobinsonsWereHere



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: 1910s flirting, Alternate Universe - Historical, Drowning, F/M, Family Feels, Feels, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, I actually did research for this, Marriage Proposal, Near Death Experiences, Panic Attacks, Shawn's boss is a real guy, Trauma, and there was only one bed, but still, i researched that too!, it deserves its own tag okay, mostly to get a picture of what Juliet would be wearing, this is NOT a titanic au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25573231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinsonsWereHere/pseuds/RobinsonsWereHere
Summary: In the middle of the night on April 15th, 1912, the crew of the RMSCarpathiais spurred into action as the ship makes a daring rescue of the recently wreckedTitanic.Shawn Spencer is an engineer on theCarpathia,but that night he ends up pulling survivors from the waves.One of them, Miss Juliet O'Hara, will change his life forever.
Relationships: Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer
Comments: 18
Kudos: 33





	Glimpse of Relief

**Author's Note:**

> This piece has been a week in the making and I'm really happy with it! Also really happy that Taylor Swift released _folklore_ because those vibes really match this fic. Specifically I feel like epiphany fits the best (hence the lyrics in the title) but the point is, if you can (and if you're someone who doesn't mind music while you read) put folklore on while you read this fic!

Shawn Spencer wakes to footfalls on the metal floors before the knock even comes at his door. He’d fallen asleep in soot-stained clothes after his shift, so he only has to tug on his shoes before hurrying out into the hubbub. Despite not knowing what the rush is about, he feels adrenaline thrumming through his veins.

“Alright, boys, listen up!” yells the loud, relentless chief engineer. Shawn’s boss is a strict man with a temper, but with such a ragtag engine crew and so much depending on the engines, he has to be. “The _Titanic_ liner has been wrecked about sixty miles from here! Captain Rostron wants us there as fast as we damn well can be, so that God help us, we can save some lives! He’s giving us extra power by shutting off the hot water and the heating, and boys, we are gonna push _Carpathia_ as fast as her engines will take her! I need you all to shovel and stoke like you never have before, and pay damn good attention to the engines because we _cannot_ have a fire at a time like this! Sixty miles should take us four hours but by God, I want us there in three!”

Shawn follows orders even as blood rushes in his ears. This is a crazy idea, absolute insanity. Pushing the engines like this for long periods of time will wear them out, and their ship won’t be any help to the _Titanic_ if they can’t go anywhere. But the nice, large salary Shawn is getting for this voyage isn’t so he can argue with his superiors.

It isn’t so he can rescue a wrecked ship, either. 

Somehow, the engineers manage to do the impossible. Over seventeen knots, sustained speed, gets them to the _Titanic_ in just over three hours. The ship, Shawn knows, isn’t designed to do more than fourteen.

When the engines are no longer the priority, Shawn finds himself shuffled up to the deck. He is young and strong and a crew member, meaning he will know how to behave so close to the water. He and others he recognizes but does not have time or focus to name pull survivors-- _survivors--_ from the lifeboats onto the deck.

He doesn’t know how long he spends there, hauling gasping, sobbing, soaking people onto the deck. It’s long enough that even his thick, waterproof leather jacket, a gift from his parents before the voyage began, cannot keep him warm. The cold seeps to his bones but like everything else it is blurred into the night, into the hours that he will not remember at all in the coming years. Running on adrenaline, he acts without consciously thinking, helping one person after another onto the boat. Others, crew members or even passengers, then guide them into the dining halls, where there is warmth and food and doctors. Shawn stays on the cold deck, and his heart continues to thud rapidly in his chest.

After hour upon hour passes, after Shawn has sunken into a routine that allows him to not think about the horror, the insanity, of what he is doing, something happens that changes that routine. Someone literally falls into his arms that will change his life.

He’s helped many women onto the deck in the past hours, at least, he thinks he has, holding them in the way that will keep them most secure, without a thought to propriety or where he shouldn’t be putting his hands. But when this young woman, this shivering girl, nearly collapses into his chest, his first thought is that he is holding her far too close. It doesn’t stop him from wrapping her instinctively in his arms.

“You’re alright, Miss,” he comforts. From her lack of response and apparent inability to stand on her own, he wonders if she’s unconscious. But her arms are around his neck and holding tight to his shirt in a way that makes him sure she’s awake. He stands slowly, moving away from the deck railing for the first time. “Miss? Can you tell me your name?”

“Juliet,” she whispers, in a raw, hoarse voice.

“Nice to meet you,” he murmurs, beginning to carry her toward the dining hall. “What… what’s your family name?”

But she’s unresponsive again, shivering as she clings to his chest, her face turned into his shoulder. Shawn catches himself looking her over, noticing the fine weave of her soaked dress and guessing at the color of her sea-tangled hair, before he tears his gaze away, looking forward once again. _Shame on you,_ he thinks. _She’s in shock._

She hasn’t moved much by the time he gets her into the dining hall, but she lifts her head and blinks at the light. Shawn sighs in relief at the feeling of warmth and the smell of food and coffee. “This is much better, isn’t it?” He asks the woman in his arms.

She doesn’t speak until he sets her down on a chair, where a doctor quickly begins an examination. “Thank you,” she whispers, but her voice is so faint she may as well have mouthed the words.

As the doctor treats her for hypothermia, Shawn finally learns her name-- Juliet O’Hara. When answering questions for the records, she explains that she’d been traveling with her mother and brothers, none of whom had survived. Shawn’s heart hurts and he’s glad that at that moment he’s carrying over a blanket for her, so that he can offer at least some small comfort. “Thank you,” she says again, stronger, and this time they are alone, because the doctor has moved on to the next survivor. Shawn nods, and holds out a bowl of warm pot roast; she’s already got a coffee mug.

“You should eat,” he says.

Juliet nods, sipping her coffee and taking a few bites of food. It occurs to Shawn that he should leave, but he feels spellbound by her, like he can’t tear his eyes away.

“I’m Juliet O’Hara,” she says quietly, after a minute. Shawn is surprised to hear her speak aloud. He blinks.

“I know,” he says, then winces. “Lord, that’s horrible manners. Sorry. I’m Shawn Spencer.”

“Nice to meet you, Shawn,” Juliet says. He sees a blush spread through her cheeks and feels oddly relieved, finding the color a nice change from her previous ashen pallor. “Ah, I mean, Mr. Spencer. Excuse me.”

“I think a few breaches of etiquette can be forgiven, after the night you’ve had,” Shawn says gently. “I suppose this might count as eavesdropping, but I’m… sorry about your family.”

She nods. “It hasn’t settled in yet,” she says, her voice suddenly quiet. "My brothers were exhausting, but… they were good to me. And my mother… she was all I had.”

Shawn frowns. “Has your father passed?”

Juliet shakes her head. “No… but he’s not a nice man. I’m not looking forward to what will happen when there’s nobody between me and him.”

A thousand questions bubble up inside him at that, but he holds his tongue, trying not to overstep his boundaries anymore than he already has. He notices that she’s finished the roast, and is only sipping at her coffee. “Hey, you’ve had a long night,” he says softly. “I’m an engine mechanic, so I’ll be up all night anyway--” it might even be the truth, who knows how busy they’ll be, how off-course they are-- “and I’m happy to give you my bunk.”

Juliet nods, some of the light returning to her eyes. “Thank you so much, Mr. Spencer.”

“Of course.” He offers her an arm, inordinately pleased by the soft pressure of her hand near his elbow. She stays wrapped in her blankets as he guides her down the hall, into the depths of the ship where his bunk is. “It’s a bit cramped, and it’s not gonna be quiet,” he apologizes. “But you’ve got plenty of blankets.” He catches a glimpse of the hem of her skirt, realizing she’s still wearing the wet clothes she was rescued in. “I’ll uh, give you some privacy. The door doesn’t lock, but you won’t be disturbed. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“Thank you, Mr. Spencer,” Juliet tells him, her hand moving to his wrist. “Really. You saved my life.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Miss O’Hara.” Shawn’s voice is embarrassingly husky.

She smiles and lets go of his hand, but even when the door shuts, Shawn can’t bring himself to move more than a few steps down the hallway.

_What are you doing? Let her sleep. There are a hundred helpful things you could be doing right now._

He turns away, taking another few steps.

The door opens.

“Shawn?”

Surprise at the use of his first name makes him turn.

(Who is he kidding? He would’ve turned anyway.)

Juliet is leaning slightly out of the doorway, enough that he can see she’s wearing nothing but a slip. He averts his eyes.

“Uh, is-- is something wrong?”

She blushes, not that he can see that, because he’s absolutely staring at the ceiling, not at her. “Um, I-- I was wondering-- that is, would you… would you stay with me?”

Shawn tries several times to speak, but he seems to have lost his voice.

“That is… not at all proper,” he finally manages.

“I’m sorry,” Juliet apologizes, looking down in a way that makes him want to kick himself. “I know it is, I shouldn’t ask you to do something like this, we barely know each other, but-- I just-- I don’t think I could stand another hour in the cold and the dark. I don’t think I could take it.”

“I can find you another blanket,” he offers. “And-- and if we leave the door cracked, you’ll have light.”

Juliet shakes her head. “I… I don’t want to be alone.”

Shawn finds himself nodding as he steps towards her.

_Woah, woah, woah. What the hell are you doing?_

“Well, I could use some shut-eye myself,” he admits.

_No. Stop. You are not married. You’ve just met her. Do not do this._

“If… if you’re comfortable with this.”

Juliet looks up, surprised. “Thank you,” she whispers. “I just… I just want someone to hold me.”

Shawn nods, barely able to speak. “O-of course. I’d be happy to.”

They both end up in the bunk that barely fits him, normally. Juliet has wrapped herself in blankets, but lifts them as if inviting him under. Shawn can feel his cheeks burning, and even in the dark, he can tell that she’s flushed.

“You’re gonna have to tell me where to put my hands,” he says softly, his voice rough. “I… there’s no etiquette for this.”

“Well, then, I suppose you should put them where you feel comfortable,” Juliet says. Her tone is almost brisk, matter-of-fact. He suspects she’s being overly rational in an effort to hide embarrassment, but in the dark he can’t read her expression so well. “If you don’t mind,” she continues, “I think I’ll use your chest as a pillow.”

“That’s alright with me,” he grunts. Taking her at her word, when she lies down against him, he wraps his arms around her tiny form. It feels so… natural.

Shawn tears his mind from dreams of holding her like this every night. He’s just met this girl, he doesn’t need to be fantasizing about a future already. It’s simply because he’s never been in this position with anyone else. That’s all.

Instead, he focuses on how cold her bare skin is under his fingers, how she’s still shivering against him. “Are you still cold?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever feel warm again,” she murmurs, and he finds it almost ironic how her breath blows warm across his chest.

He pulls the blankets tighter around them. “You will,” he promises. “I’ve got you. I’ll warm you up.”

The silence after that leaves plenty of time for him to contemplate just how improper the insinuations of that sentence are. He closes his eyes and tries to sleep, but Juliet’s smaller body against his has every nerve awake. She says she’s cold, but aside from the chill of her hands at his shoulders and her icy feet tangled in his legs, her presence beside him is a warm one. Shawn catches himself stroking his thumb back and forth over her bare shoulder, but she doesn’t object, so he doesn’t stop.

“Shawn?” she asks, her voice cutting through the dark as he feels himself drift closer to unconsciousness.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“Juliet, you don’t need to thank me,” he murmurs back. Her first name almost leaves a tangible taste on his tongue. He wants to say it over and over again. “Everyone on this boat was trying their hardest to save everyone they could. Someone would’ve saved you.”

“I…” she exhales, and the breath across his skin makes him shiver. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what it was like, floating out there.”

“You’re right,” he says. “I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” she says hurriedly. He can feel her heartbeat under his fingers; it seems too fast. “I just-- I feel like I’m still out there. I was clinging to something, some part of the ship that floated, I can’t even remember-- all I remember is wondering why I was holding on. I knew I was going to die, or I thought I did. And all I wanted was to let go, to slip beneath the waves, to give in and be over with it, but I couldn’t-- I couldn’t--” her breath is coming in gasps now, in harsh sobs. “It was so cold.”

“Juliet…” Shawn feels like he should say something, but what the hell can he say to that? Instead, he pulls her even closer, his arms tightening around her. “Juliet.”

“I didn’t even know where I was when you pulled me up,” she murmurs. There are still tears in her voice, but her breathing is returning to normal. “I don’t even remember getting into the lifeboat. I felt beyond cold, like my whole body was going numb… and then you were there, and you held me…” she chokes on more tears. “It was as if I melted. I didn’t know where I was, what was going on around me… all I knew was that you were holding me and I… I didn’t want to let go.” She shifts against him, and when Shawn looks down, her sparkling eyes meet his in the dark. “I… I still don’t want to.”

Shawn can’t decide what vision is more tempting-- the shine of her eyes or the shadow of her lips. They’re so close now that their breaths are mingling. Juliet clings to him as if she’s afraid he’ll slip away; he holds her just as tightly. He finds himself struggling to think straight.

_Oh, what I wouldn’t give to kiss her…_

Instead, Shawn shifts his body, hugging her into him so that her head rests in the crook of his neck. “You don’t have to let go,” he promises. “I don’t want to let go either.”

The only response he gets from her is a shaky exhale. Soon, he can tell from the rhythm of her breath that she’s succumbed to sleep.

Him, on the other hand…

\---

Almost an hour after waking up entangled with Juliet, Shawn still hasn’t bothered to find out what time it is. The sun tells him it’s sometime after noon, which means he should be working, and that’s all he needs to know.

He has enough time to make two routine checks and get absolutely covered in soot, grease, and general filth before Baines, the engineer in charge of the section Shawn’s working in right now, finds him. “Spencer! Get enough beauty rest!?”

His boss always has to yell over the engine noise, and it makes him sound like there’s an exclamation point after every word.

“Sorry, sir,” Shawn calls back, only briefly glancing up from his work. “Guess I was worn out after last night. I’ll work a double shift today.”

“I couldn’t care less how long you slept, Spencer! Lord knows last night was the eighth circle of hell! What I object to is you bedding down with one of the fancy dames from the _Titanic!_ While you are a part of this crew you _will_ act as if you have some small sense of decency, do I make myself clear!?”

Though he can feel himself turning red, Shawn doesn’t even think of trying to explain, not when that would cast such an unseemly shadow over Juliet. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. It was a… lapse of judgement.”

“It was _my_ lapse of judgement,” a familiar voice interjects.

Shawn bangs his head on one of the large metal pipes as he climbs out from under it. “Ju--” he catches himself. “Miss O’Hara?”

Baines draws himself up into what he must think is an official stance, his nostrils flaring with annoyance. “Miss, passengers are not allowed near the engines! _Especially_ not women!” He eyes Juliet’s floaty dress, which does indeed look rather flammable.

“My apologies,” she says, her voice sounding _prim_ in a way Shawn hasn’t heard from her before. “I merely wished to set the record straight, regarding my night with Mr. Spencer.”

Baines turns red; Shawn doesn’t know if it’s because he’s not used to anyone being so unfazed by him, or because he really doesn’t want to hear the scandalous details. “That’s really not necessary!”

“I wouldn’t want Mr. Spencer to get in trouble because of my actions,” Juliet continues. Shawn is in awe of how her quiet, firm tone pushes right past Baines’ loud blustering. “After a night like that, I’m sure neither of us were thinking straight. Although I requested that he stay with me for the night, Mr. Spencer was a gentleman, and nothing uncouth happened. I will certainly correct my behavior in the future, I was simply…” for a moment, the formal mask slips. “...unnerved by my brush with death.” Juliet swallows and straightens, her posture as perfect as any Shawn’s seen. “The point is, Mr. Spencer should not be reprimanded for my actions.”

Baines opens and closes his mouth a few times. “Yes, alright! I can forgive one mistake after the mess that was last night! But Miss, you really cannot be down here! Spencer, escort the lady up to the deck!”

Shawn nods. “Yes, sir.” He wipes his dirty hands on his stained pants before offering his arm to Juliet. He’s trying not to get her dirty, but she doesn’t seem to hesitate before slipping her hand through his elbow.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, as they head for the steps. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“It’s the least I could do, after dragging you into my bed last night.”

This wry, blunt Juliet is such a departure from her attitude towards Baines that Shawn nearly stumbles. “As I remember it, there wasn’t much dragging involved.” He swallows, finding his mouth oddly dry. “And I’m… sorry. For making things awkward. Tense. I definitely didn’t expect the whole ship to find out about our…” he feels himself blushing. “Like you said, we weren’t thinking straight.”

Juliet smirks. “Well, I don’t know about you, but for me, that’s not necessarily true.”

He really doesn’t know what to say to that. “I…”

“I would spend the night with you again,” she murmurs, her tone sending shivers down his spine. Even Juliet must realize just what she’s saying, because he sees a flush creep up her cheeks. “I mean, I-- as I said, you were a gentleman. Given the fact that there are now many more people than intended on this boat, it simply makes sense for us to share again.” She looks up at him, something he can’t decipher in her blue eyes. “I… trust you.”

Shawn nods, not sure he can speak. “Thank you,” he says slowly. “I would enjoy-- I mean, I’d be happy to share--” he sighs. “I trust you, too.”

\---

They do end up sharing again.

Despite having done this before, Shawn’s heart still thuds at breakneck pace against his ribcage when he pulls Juliet close. Once again, she’s wearing only a silky slip, but this time, she’s not shivering, and her skin is warm to the touch.

In fact, her whole body against his radiates heat. It feels like their hearts are beating in tandem. He wonders how he hadn’t noticed the soft, almost sweet scent of her skin before. With her hair smelling salty like the sea, it’s a combination Shawn thinks he could get lost in.

“Are you warmer tonight?” he asks her in a husky voice.

“Much,” she murmurs, smiling up at him. “But I certainly still enjoy your warm embrace.”

Shawn feels a little _too_ warm at that.

“Happy to oblige,” he mutters.

Juliet makes a contented noise, tucks her face into his shoulder, and promptly falls asleep.

Shawn spends a while counting sheep.

\---

The next day, he’s on time to his shift, rising earlier than he needs to in order to sneak Juliet out of his room without anyone seeing.

“This way you get first dibs on breakfast,” he jokes

She gives him a radiant smile. “I’ll bring you something.”

He thinks she’s joking, but an hour later, he’s deep in the bowels of the ship, lying on his back in a puddle of dirty sea water, when he hears footsteps much lighter than the heavy boots of the crew. Turning his head, he catches sight of the hem of a dark skirt.

“Juliet?” He bangs his head again getting up. “Uh, sorry. Miss O’Hara, I meant.”

“I suppose I can forgive a breach of etiquette, seeing as you appear to have suffered a head injury,” she teases.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says, giving her a smile that’s more familiar than he should be acting. “What brings you down to this filthy corner?”

She holds out a bundle wrapped in one of the ship’s linen napkins. “I told you I’d save you something.”

After a breakfast of lukewarm oatmeal, the sight of the iced bun makes Shawn’s mouth water. “Damn, I thought you were kidding.” A second later, he winces, looking away. “Sorry, Miss. I can’t seem to keep a hold of my tongue around you.”

Juliet leans against one of the pipes next to him, her eyes sparkling as she smiles. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Thanks for the breakfast,” he says, taking the bun from her. For a minute he doesn’t speak, just savoring the flavor. 

“Will I get you in trouble if I keep you company down here?” Juliet asks. “I found a more sensible skirt for today. Less likely to catch fire, and you can’t tell if it’s dirty.”

Shawn’s gaze trails over her body before he can stop himself. The long black skirt hits a white blouse at her waist, and the contrast only draws attention to the shapeliness of her figure. His eyes drift higher, noticing the ruffle up the middle of the shirt that flares out over her breasts. As his mind remembers the feeling of her frame pressed against his in bed, he forces himself to look away. 

_Get a grip._

“Um, no, you shouldn’t,” he says, forcing a laugh. “But, uh, why would you want to spend any time down here, anyway?”

Juliet shrugs. “Well, I… on-- on the _Titanic,_ All I was supposed to do was follow my mother around, sit in the ladies’ parlor and make small talk, or sometimes go with my brothers for a walk around the upper decks. I suppose I’m reveling in the freedom of being able to make my own choices now.”

Shawn had tried to go back to checking gauges, but at this he pauses. “You must miss them.”

“I’m trying not to,” she says quietly. “It sounds horrible, I know. But I don’t know what’s going to happen to me next and I don’t feel strong enough to even think about them without--” she takes a shuddering breath. “Without--” Shawn can see tears in her eyes, and as he watches, she blinks quickly as if trying not to let them fall. “Every room I’m allowed to be in, supposed to be in, feels full of ghosts.”

Shawn longs to pull her into his arms, comfort her like he does in the dark of the night, but even if this is one of the least traveled areas of the ship, he doesn’t dare.

“I can’t even imagine how horrible that feels,” he says quietly. “You told me, the first night, about your father… will he know? Will he be waiting for you in New York?”

She nods quickly, looking down. “A shipwreck will certainly make the news. But he won’t-- he won’t know if I’m alive. I suppose he’ll have to come to the docks to find out.” She tosses her blonde curls, tied up but still spilling over her shoulders. “I doubt he would’ve come, if things had gone normally.”

The first time she’d mentioned her father, Shawn had held his tongue, unwilling to press her. But the expression on her face, sad and reserved at the same time, causes very real concern to bubble up in his chest.

“Juliet…” this time, he doesn’t correct himself when he uses her first name. “Will you be alright? It sounds like you’ll be mostly by yourself… from what you’ve told me, your father is not a good man.”

“No, he isn’t,” she sighs. “And… I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ll be alright, Shawn. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Shawn feels an almost physical pain at the defeat and worry so clear in her gray-blue eyes. He wishes desperately that he could somehow help her, make sure she’d be safe once she got off the ship. Because they’re going to part ways; there’s no way around it. 

He’s a part of this ship’s crew, and considering how well it pays, he’d like to stay on even once this voyage is over. And Juliet… Juliet is a _lady,_ already higher in society than he could ever be. She’s going to go home, and at best, her father will marry her off to some rich boy who will keep her comfortable. At worst… 

He’s seen what neglectful fathers do with daughters they don’t want. And he would never wish that on anyone.

“Juliet,” he says again, her name scratching over the hoarseness in his voice, “if there’s anything I can do… I-- I know there isn’t, but if you need any help…”

She nods. “Thank you, Shawn.” 

Her small, tight smile says he’s crossing a line, speaking foolish hopes he should’ve kept to himself.

The use of his first name says otherwise.

\---

On April 17th, Shawn has a dawn shift, and he’ll have a late night shift, too. But most of the day is his to do as he pleases. 

As they wind through the decks of passenger cabins, the ship shifts under them. Juliet, perfectly steady on her feet, reaches out for Shawn, who’s already standing closer than he needs to.

Poor balance is a perfectly good excuse to be touching each other, though.

Shawn even dares to rest his hand on Juliet’s waist as they climb the steep steps. She’s gone back to wearing her long, flowy dresses again, and he can’t help but admire them. Admire her.

Up close, he can see that this white gown has detailing in dark green velvet and a shiny white satin. He can feel the textures of all three fabrics under his hand, from the soft belt to the silky stripe through the middle to the flowy skirt. His mother might own something this intricate as an evening gown, and Juliet is wearing it for a stroll around a ship.

She is so, so far out of his reach. But he knows he has no hope of getting her out of his mind.

“We’ll reach New York tomorrow,” Juliet comments, her voice barely audible over the rush of the wind.

Shawn makes himself let go of her hand now that they’re on the passenger deck, but they’re still walking far too close. “We will,” he agrees. “I guess… I guess that’s where we’ll say goodbye.”

Juliet is looking out at the blue horizon, not at him. But her eyes flash with passion and her voice trembles with longing when she speaks. “I wish we didn’t have to,” she says. “I would rather spend the rest of my life on this boat with you than seeing the whole world by myself. And I know-- I know we’ve only known each other for a few days, but everything about my life has changed, Shawn. The moment you pulled me onto the deck, everything changed. And you could have let go. You could have passed me on to someone else who would’ve carried me in and left me with the doctor. But you didn’t.” She finally looks at him. “Everything else is changing, but you’ve stayed the same.” He watches her swallow hard. “I wish we could stay the same.”

He does, too.

And just like that, the pieces fall into place. A solution appears.

_I would rather spend the rest of my life with you…_

“Marry me,” he blurts.

Juliet’s eyes go wide. “What?”

“You won’t have to go with your dad,” he says, a rapid explanation spilling from his mouth. “We can-- we can stay together. I don’t have a guaranteed contract with the _Carpathia,_ anyway. We can fall asleep in each other’s arms without having to sneak out the next morning.” He dares to grab her hand and even lays a kiss to the back of it. “You can see the world _and_ keep me by your side.”

Juliet’s jaw has dropped open, but her expression has shifted from surprise to delight. _”Yes._ Yes!”

Shawn almost can’t believe it. “Yes? You’ll marry me?”

Juliet nods again, laughing. Then she looks around, as if assuring that everyone else is going about their own business. Before Shawn knows what’s happening, she’s throwing herself at him, her mouth on his. He wraps her in his arms, in broad daylight.

And if he so pleases, he’ll be able to do that every day from now on.

\---

Filthy, greasy, and sweaty, Shawn climbs up the final set of stairs to the deck. His fiancee wears a violet dress today, more simple in the style to complement the bright color. She’d told him this morning, as he unabashedly watched her dress, that she’s swearing not to wear white until their wedding day. Just the thought of it had put a huge smile on Shawn’s face.

“You’re cutting it close, Mr. Spencer,” Juliet teases, sliding her hand into the crook of his arm as they look out on the New York harbor rapidly approaching.

“Had to make sure we were running smooth,” he apologizes. “But I’m here now. No way I’m missing this view.”

“We’re coming home,” she murmurs.

“Maybe for you. I’m from California.”

Juliet laughs, but falls silent. Shawn shifts her hand into his so he can give it a squeeze. _I’m right here._

“My father isn’t going to like you,” she says quietly.

“I don’t like him.”

“I’m sure I’ll practically have to trick him into giving his blessing.”

Shawn gives her a sly smirk. “If all else fails, we can elope.”

Juliet fakes a swoon, her hand going to her brow. “Oh, but our reputations!”

The reminder makes him sober. “I don’t have much of a reputation, Jules.”

She smiles softly at the nickname. “I don’t mind. I hardly do either, without following my mother around to all of her functions.”

Shawn tilts his head to look her in the eye. “So… it’s a fresh start for both of us?”

Her smile grows. “A fresh start. I like that.”

The horns sound. They’re getting ready to dock. No going back now.

“Juliet?” 

“Shawn?”

“I love you,” he tells her.

She beams, first at him, and then out at the city. “I love you, too.”

“Are you ready for this?”

Juliet nods. “With you… I feel ready for anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos make my day, and you can find me on tumblr at bijulespencerohara !


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